Cherry Ames Boxed Set 17-20

by Helen Wells

  Cherry saw less of her cabin mates than of little Sue Howard, whose “Mountaineers” cabin was just across the path. Sue ran over before breakfast to say good morning.

  She was prompt to acquaint Cherry with Blue Water ways. “You’d better not spread out any clothes to dry in this field, Miss Cherry,” she said early one morning. “I’ve seen squirrels come out of the woods and scamper all over the things we leave around.”

  “Thanks, Sue.” Cherry gazed into the dense woods that rose like a wall behind the field. “How deep is this forest?”

  “I don’t know,” Sue answered, “but it’s big. On the other side of it is Thunder Cliff.” Sue pointed out the footpath along the edge of Long Lake that led to the boys’ camp.

  “How long is Long Lake?”

  “Gosh, at least five miles, maybe farther. They say the far end is wild and deserted. We’re not allowed to row near there, or go exploring or hiking there.”

  “Even with counselors?”

  “Even with counselors, and Jean Wheeler leading the hike. Especially not to Tall Man’s Island.”

  The name arrested Cherry’s attention.

  But Sue was already telling her about the Eplers’ farm nearby, where the camp purchased its eggs and butter. “The Eplers are an awfully nice young couple,” she said enthusiastically. A little farther away, she added, was another farm, the Model Farm, where the campers had their own vegetable patches and helped take care of the farm animals. Last year Sue’s cabin had been in charge of raising a calf.

  “I can hardly wait to see her grown up into a cow,” Sue said. “Will you come with us, Miss Cherry? Please?”

  “I’d love to, but it depends on when I’ll have time off from the infirmary.”

  Cherry was very busy these first days helping Dr. Lowell and his wife organize the infirmary. The log cabin was divided into a clinic, a small examining room, a supply room, and a large room holding four cots. “A complete little medical unit, although I’d rather not attempt surgery here,” said Robert Lowell. For any serious emergencies, he told Cherry, they would rely on the hospital in Martinsville, the nearest good-sized town. The doctor said it was a first-rate hospital.

  “We don’t really expect any serious cases,” Janet Lowell told Cherry. “When Bob and I first came up here, four summers ago, we were all set for appendicitis and a broken arm or leg. But the Blue Water girls fooled us.”

  “You don’t sound a bit sorry,” Cherry said, smiling.

  She liked the young, brown-haired Lowells—Robert so quiet, and Jan so pleasant, both of them such responsible, warmhearted medical people. It was wonderful to have another nurse here to work with. Cherry and Jan wore crisp white uniforms and caps. Dr. Robert, as the children called him, wore starchy white, too.

  “Nursing won’t monopolize all your time,” the Lowells told Cherry. Jan taught the girls fine needlework when she had spare time, and the doctor was always willing to give a first-aid lesson on the infirmary’s porch. “Bob and Bet Wright may ask what you’d like to do, Cherry, so think about it.”

  The infirmary’s first patient was the new girl from Sue’s cabin. Katy Osborn came limping in on Tuesday morning, all by herself.

  “Why, where’s your counselor?” Cherry asked. “Didn’t she or some of the other girls offer to bring you up here?”

  “I didn’t tell them I was coming. They’d have laughed at me,” Katy said. She limped over to a bench and dropped down. A pretty little girl with fine skin and silky hair, Katy wore the simple camp uniform of shirt and shorts with an air. “Besides, I don’t want the other girls to be fussing around me. Oh, my ankle!”

  “That’s a shame,” Cherry said. “Let me see it.”

  “Can’t the doctor see it?” Katy murmured. “If you don’t mind—”

  Cherry looked at her in surprise. “He will, in just a minute.” She explained that Dr. Lowell and his wife were busy setting up health record forms for each girl, and this morning it was Cherry’s job to be the receiving department. She examined Katy’s ankle.

  “I don’t see a thing except a scratch,” Cherry said.

  “But it hurts! Can’t the doctor—please?—”

  Dr. Lowell came in and examined Katy’s ankle. He, too, found nothing wrong with it except a scratch.

  “But that’s exactly what hurts,” Katy said pleadingly. “Quite a lot.”

  “I’ll paint it with iodine,” Dr. Lowell reassured her. “Then you can run along and enjoy yourself.”

  After the doctor had applied iodine and a Bandaid, and had left, Katy continued to sit forlornly on the bench.

  “Homesick?” Cherry asked.

  “Oh, no,” Katy said. “It’s nice at Blue Water. It’s just that I don’t see any fun in tennis practice. The other girls work so hard to win, it’s so silly.”

  Perhaps this girl with her air of being specially privileged did not like to compete with better players. But it was only tennis practice … Cherry wondered.

  “Besides, I couldn’t play tennis with this bad ankle.”

  “Now, really, Katy, there’s nothing the matter with you. I’m sure you have enough spirit to overlook a scratch.”

  Katy looked as if she wanted to cry but was too proud to. “Why can’t anyone around here see how hard it is, especially for a new girl, Miss—Miss—?”

  Cherry supplied her name, and said encouragingly, “New ways aren’t easy at first, are they? Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  Katy burst forth into an account of her troubles. She was obliged to make her own bed and help sweep out the cabin—before she’d had breakfast, at that! … Well, yes, so did all the other girls. But she wasn’t used to it, she’d never had to do such things at home. Besides, if she wanted a shower, she had to walk way over to a shower cabin for it. That was how she’d scratched her ankle, on a stone along the way.

  “Poor Katy,” said Cherry. She felt amused, but concerned for the youngster, too. “But, you see, part of the fun at camp is living mostly outdoors, living very simply. And doing your share of the chores together with your friends is part of the fun, too.”

  “Sue and the rest aren’t my friends,” Katy said very low.

  “Do you like them?”

  “I’m trying to.”

  Katy stood up, excused herself, and limped down the hill. From the way her shoulders drooped, it appeared that she felt infinitely sorry for herself.

  Yet Cherry liked this pretty girl. She was anxious to hear more about Katy from the camp director, in his crowded office, when she delivered the day’s medical report to him.

  “Just read this letter from Katy’s parents,” Bob Wright said. He was a lean, homely, likable man. “Next they’ll write me they don’t want their treasure to go swimming for fear she’ll get wet. Katy is a nice girl or she could be, if her parents ever let her stand on her own feet.”

  From the letter it was clear that Katy, an only child, had had everything done for her. Overprotected, indulged, cradled in luxury from babyhood—no wonder she was frightened, indignant about making her bed, and lost among the other campers.

  “Maybe she’ll learn at camp, this summer,” Uncle Bob said. He peered at Cherry through his round glasses like a kindly owl. “We’ll all do everything we can to help her.”

  “I’ll try, too,” Cherry promised. Maybe she could drop a hint to the Mountaineers of Katy’s cabin.

  Then Uncle Bob surprised her. “You know what I think? And Lil Baker thinks, too? The girls themselves are going to be the ones who help Katy. They’ll either cure or kill her. That cabin is going to have a summer they won’t forget.”

  The Lowells were right, Cherry did have a pleasant amount of free time. Of course she remained on camp premises within call of the infirmary, and she was not idle. Whenever she saw a way to make herself useful, she joined in. It was fun to lend a hand with the Midgets, at their cabin called the Beehive, in honor of Bea, their unit counselor. Two afternoons Cherry helped the swimming staff with the kinde
rgartners in the crib. The craft shop attracted Cherry, as the girls collected reeds to weave baskets, and some started leather work. Cherry thought about what sort of contribution she could make.

  “You probably know a good deal about biology, since you’re a nurse,” Aunt Bet said that first week. “Perhaps you’d like to help out in the nature department.”

  “We might start a Can-You-Name-This Shelf,” Cherry suggested, and Aunt Bet agreed that that would be a good idea.

  At first, though, Cherry was content to do the small extra jobs that no one else had time for. That was how she happened to bump into Reed Champion, and to meet the Eplers.

  Sophie, the cook, announced one morning that she needed extra cream and eggs at once, for ice cream and cake for Ding’s birthday. (It was a Blue Water custom to hold a birthday party for any girl lucky enough to possess a July or August birth date.) Who would go over to the Eplers’ farm for extra supplies? Cherry volunteered.

  “Our station wagon is temperamental,” Uncle Bob told her, giving her the keys. “It’d be surer to walk over to the Eplers’—it’s only fifteen minutes’ walk—except that you’d have to carry the eggs and cream on the way back, and it takes a lot of eggs and cream to make enough dessert for this gang.”

  Cherry didn’t expect the motor to stall on so short a drive, but it did. She was considering leaving the car in the road and continuing on foot when a twin station wagon came toward her. It stopped.

  “Stuck?” the young driver inquired cheerfully. “Need help? I’m the head counselor at Thunder Cliff, remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” Cherry said, “and even though this motor has me confused.”

  Reed Champion laughed, and slid out from behind his own wheel. He was tall, athletic, already sunburned, and moved with an easy strength. He lifted the hood and released a part of the mechanism.

  “She always catches like that with a new driver,” Reed said. “You’re all right now—ah—I’m awfully sorry but I can’t remember your name except that it’s some kind of a fruit.” He actually blushed.

  “It’s Cherry, but sometimes I think Tutti-Frutti would be easier for people to remember.”

  “Tutti for short? Anyway, the name Cherry matches your coloring.” Then Reed Champion looked downright embarrassed. He changed the subject. “Is this your first season in camp work?”

  They talked camp for a few minutes, in the warm sun, with green trees blowing gently around them. Reed was dedicated to his work with young people, Cherry could see. In the winters he taught physical education and coached basketball and baseball at a Long Island high school. Every summer, except for an enlistment period in the Air Force, he had been first a camper, then a junior counselor, and now head counselor at Thunder Cliff.

  “The kids say you can tell an old-timer by how long he’s known old Reed.” The young man smiled, a wide, friendly smile. “A lot of us love this mountaintop. We come up here Thanksgiving and Easter, to hike and sort of keep an eye on the camps. Fred and Vernie Epler invite us to dinner and tell us the local news.”

  “I’m on my way to the Eplers’ now,” said Cherry. She remembered about the waiting cook, and explained to Reed Champion.

  “Well, I won’t detain you,” he said. He started to walk back to his own car, then he stopped. “See you around. If you’re ever free for an evening drive—or on your day off—?”

  “My hours aren’t definite yet, but it would be nice to see you.” She was surprised, because Reed obviously was no ladies’ man, but pleased too that he had asked her for a date.

  Reed shook his head as he climbed back into his car. “I’m so busy that if I make appointments ahead, usually I have to break them at the last minute. Anyway, I’ll look forward to seeing you on Saturday evenings. The boys visit the girl campers for a square dance on Saturdays.” He waved. “Give my regards to the Eplers.”

  The Eplers’ house stood at the entrance to a small working farm. Cherry liked the neat, bright look of the place, with its well-tended rows of garden produce, the freshly painted barn, and the rolling green fields beyond. It was nearly noon, and appetizing odors floated from the house.

  Cherry tapped at the screen door. No one came; she heard the clatter of dishes, and a radio newscast. She knocked again, several times, but when no one answered, Cherry walked to the back of the house and went to the open kitchen door. Two young men and a young woman were having lunch there and listening to the news.

  “Hello?” Cherry said. “Anyone at home to a Blue Water caller?”

  To her surprise, the yellow-haired young man jumped from his chair, and went hurriedly out of the room.

  The other two people looked anxiously at each other. Then the remaining man nodded, and the young woman rose, turned off the radio, and came to the door.

  “Come in, miss. I’m Vernie Epler.” She and her husband wore blue denim work clothes. She gave Cherry a friendly, if strained smile. “Always glad to see Blue Water folks.”

  “Please don’t let me disturb you,” Cherry said. “I’m interrupting your lunch. Please go ahead.”

  “Not a bit of it,” said Fred Epler. He pulled up a chair for her. Vernie offered her a cup of coffee. “Afraid we don’t know your name,” the young farmer said.

  Cherry introduced herself. “I’m new here. I’ve already heard about you, though, from the children.”

  The Eplers smiled. “The campers are one of the nicest things in our neighborhood. That Reed Champion—now there’s one fine boy,” Fred said.

  Cherry nodded. “This looks like one fine farm, too. Have you been here a long time?” For although she was here on an errand, the Eplers received her as a neighbor, and expected her to be as friendly as they were.

  Fred Epler told her that he and Vernie had been here about three years, ever since Fred had inherited the farm from a great-uncle.

  “But we feel as if we’d always lived here. Belong to the church, and the Grange, and put this rundown farm in good order, and Vernie won a blue ribbon for her peach preserves at the County Fair.”

  Fred Epler spoke with well-earned pride for both of them.

  Yes, Cherry thought, they must work hard, from sunup to sundown, on their tidy farm.

  Fred and Vernie were so young and devoted, they seemed almost like honeymooners. Cherry wondered about the young man who had left the room so abruptly—she had not heard of any third person at the Eplers’. She noticed that Vernie and then Fred glanced into the other room.

  “I hope I didn’t drive away your—ah—” Cherry hesitated. “The other young man.”

  “Our friend,” said Vernie. “Not a local boy. Fred’s—A friend of Fred’s. They haven’t seen each other for a long time.” She seemed under some necessity to explain.

  “I guess you think it’s funny,” Fred Epler said to Cherry, “the way he bolted, hey? Mac’s tired. He hasn’t had much sleep. I guess that’s why he—well, maybe didn’t think he was fit for company.”

  “I’m not company,” Cherry said, “and honestly you don’t owe me any explanations.”

  But Fred Epler insisted Mac had to come in and be introduced. He went into the other room. Cherry heard them talking. Then the two young men returned together.

  For a moment Cherry had a passing impression that Fred and his friend looked somewhat alike. But she dismissed it. For one thing, their coloring was entirely different—Mac was yellow-haired and he wore a small mustache. He seemed worn, though not much older than Epler. Like Fred and Vernie, he was windburned and sunburned.

  “This is Mac Cook, Cherry Ames.” Fred gave the young man a slight push forward. “Tell the young lady you’re a little bit girl-shy.”

  Mac Cook did seem shy, or at least ill at ease. He said hello courteously to Cherry, and apologized for walking out. Otherwise he had nothing to say.

  Cherry thought he was an extremely amiable-looking person, who looked as if he could be fun, but she wondered why he seemed so tense. The atmosphere in the farm kitchen grew strained.
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br />   “Well, I—I came for some extra cream and eggs,” Cherry said to fill the uncomfortable silence.

  Just as she started to follow Vernie outdoors, toward the springhouse, Mac Cook barely touched her sleeve.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked.

  “Depends on what the favor is,” she replied.

  “It isn’t much,” he said anxiously. She saw signs of fatigue around his eyes. “I—I—well, I’m not feeling very good—and the neighbors around here, if you don’t visit them right away, think you’re being unfriendly. So would you mind,” Mac Cook said all in a rush, “not mentioning to anybody that you’ve seen me here?”

  Cherry looked for some guidance toward Fred Epler, but he was lighting a pipe. Vernie was waiting outdoors, half turned away; Cherry could not see her face. They must have heard Mac Cook’s request. If it were wrong, certainly people like the young Eplers would not be party to it.

  “All right,” Cherry said, still puzzled. “All right, if you wish.”

  His relief was visible.

  She purchased the eggs and cream, and drove the short distance back to camp. “It still seems a bit queer,” she thought, “but after all I’m a stranger here. The Eplers know how things are done, and I don’t, so I’ll just be a Roman and ‘do as the Romans do.’ ”

  CHAPTER III

  P.E.P. Stands for Purdy

  CHERRY BELIEVED SHE WAS ACQUAINTED BY NOW, THE second week of camp, with practically everyone in and around Camp Blue Water. During the commotion of Fourth of July, she had met dozens of campers of all ages. She now had all the counselors sorted out by name, including Ted and Jimmy Sims who taught riding and sailing. These two young men lived at the Main House, along with the camp directors and Dr. and Mrs. Lowell. Cherry had even improved her acquaintance with Sophie, the cook, and her helper and the elderly handyman around the place.